Anthem: Scars
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Everyone carried scars. Some were just better at hiding them than others.


**Scars**

"By Helena, you look terrible."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I'm not doubting your abilities. I'm simply saying you look terrible."

Coda went to say something but a sharp pain in her chest cut that idea. Instead, she took a seat opposite Tassyn in the tavern – _The Dancing Grabbit_, it was called. Why, she had no idea – she'd never seen a grabbit dance, and grabbits were simply the least odious creature out there in the wild. Just because they weren't as dangerous as other creatures didn't mean you should name a tavern after them.

"Can I get you anything?" a bartender asked.

"Fireweed for me," Tassyn said. "Water for my friend."

"Of course."

Coda looked at Tassyn. "Didn't say I wanted water."

"No. You didn't. But I imagine it's hard for you to talk right now."

"It is. But…"

"But I can't have my best Freelancer getting drunk now can I?"

"Fireweed…" Coda took a breath. "Might help with the pain."

Tassyn reached into her pockets and took out a pair of white capsules. "Take these."

Coda obliged, swallowing both even before the water arrived.

"Didn't know I was your best Freelancer," Coda murmured.

"Well now you do."

"Also didn't know we were friends."

"Oh, we aren't," Tassyn said.

"Then why-"

"I find it easier to get through life if I use terms like 'friend' rather than 'colleague' or 'acquaintance.' Certainly better than 'person who does what I ask regardless of what the task is.'"

"That may change one day."

"No," Tassyn said. "It won't."

Taking the glass of water in her hand, Coda reflected that Tassyn might have a point.

A silence dwelt between the two women as both sipped their beverages. Coda didn't know where Owen was – probably being mopey that Faye was on cypher duty more than he was. Haluk was still trying to avoid talking with her and…she sighed, taking another sip. Tassyn wasn't her friend, but she might be one of the few people in her life that didn't resent her in some form or another right now. Everyone was calling her "Freelancer," she noticed, as if she didn't even have a name or gender. Granted, Haluk had always called her "rookie" back in the day, but still, this felt different.

"So," Tassyn said eventually. "Tell me about your report."

Coda groaned. "You've got the report."

"I've got a written report that's got more spelling errors than I can count." She took a sip of the fireweed. "What about you? What can you tell me personally?"

"Same thing that the report said. That fifty miles north of here, there's a lot of Scars. More than I've ever seen in one place before."

"And do you think this is a sign of things to come? An exponential growth perhaps?"

"You're the one in Corvus, you tell me."

"If I could tell you, would I be asking questions?"

Coda grimaced, and not just because of her lingering chest pain. "I think you'd always find some questions to ask. Even the ones you know the answer to."

"Perhaps." Tassyn leant forward. "Alright Freelancer."

"I have a name you know."

"Tell me how you got so banged up." Her eyes moved up and down Coda's body, making her feel like she was some kind of pet ursix on display. "Bruised ribs, black eye…can't help but wonder what other knocks you're hiding."

"Wonder away."

"I'm not wondering. I'm stating that you're banged up. I'm curious to know how."

Coda took another sip of water. Right now, being with Owen, Faye, or even Haluk might not have been too bad. Owen and Haluk resented her. Faye was distant with her. But she at least got where they stood. Tassyn reminded her of a child that had a pet grabbit, only in this case the child was a genius, and the grabbit was just standing there as the knife approached its throat.

"The Scars got my boosters. Had to go to ground for a bit."

Grabbits didn't talk though, so she was at least one species up in the pecking order.

"And that's when they got you?"

"Hit me, bit me, that sort of thing. Armour held. Mostly."

"So I can see," Tassyn said, looking over Coda again. "How many did you kill?"

"Does it matter?"

Tassyn gave Coda a funny look. "Why wouldn't it?"

"Well, you know how Scars work, right? Every time we kill one, it comes back out of a cataclysm in the end."

"That's the current theory," Tassyn murmured.

"Then why care how many are left in the world if the number's set?"

"Because the number isn't necessarily set. And…other reasons."

Coda didn't say anything. She could tell that Tassyn was torn between explaining those reasons, and asserting her intellectual superiority in doing so, and keeping her mouth shut, toeing the Corvus line.

"Tell me Freelancer," Tassyn said eventually. "Have you heard of the principle of energy conservation?"

She shook her head.

"Didn't think so – most people in Antium are illiterate swine anyway."

"Hey!"

"Forgive me – semi-literate swine. But while you're struggling to read, I'll just explain the principle that it's impossible to get one-hundred percent energy efficiency. That some will always be lost in transition."

Coda remained silent.

"I can't help but wonder if it might apply to the Scars as well. When a Scar dies in our world, and its soul returns to whatever's on the other side of the cataclysms, is something lost in the transition? Does their soul return fully intact? Or are little bits chipped away?"

"Are you saying that that's your plan? Keep killing Scars, chipping away at their, ahem, souls?"

"Do you dispute the existence of the soul, Freelancer? Men and women much wiser than either of us assert its existence."

"Let's just say I'm dubious as to the existence of what I can't see."

"You cannot see the air you breathe, yet it still exists."

"And when I kill Scars, I just see their bodies fall down. I only have the word of supposed smartasses that there's some soul that goes somewhere to be reborn. I mean, how do we even know they're the same Scars anyway? What, have you interrogated them?"

"Not yet," Tassyn murmured. Coda opened her mouth, but Tassyn beat her to it. "But interrogations aside, you must admit that there's a precedent in the real world. To be slowly ground down over time."

"I don't know about that?"

"Don't you?" Tassyn finished off her fireweed. "Aren't you scarred right now? Isn't there a point where'll you receive injuries that will never fully heal themselves?"

"You equating the physical with the spiritual?"

"Not necessarily. But there's tales of warriors of all creeds losing their minds over time. Of being so ground down by conflict that they cease to be, well, human."

Coda frowned – she knew the stories. Freelancers and Sentinels who had lost their minds. Some called them mad. Others cowards. Most just called them broken.

"I understand your friend Haluk has never forgiven himself, or you, for the failure at Freemark," Tassyn continued. "Are you prepared to say that he'll return to the man he once was? That there'll come a point where all is forgiven?"

"I can hope so," Coda murmured.

"Then dare to hope, but not so much that hope becomes ashes in your mouth," Tassyn said. "Trust me on this, if nothing else Freelancer. Hope will inevitably lead to disappointment if you put too much faith in it."

"And if we put too little?"

"Then we may as well leave Fort Tarsis right now. Because while I've got you on Scar duty, most of Corvus is on the Dominion."

Coda frowned. "Is it that bad?"

Tassyn looked to the side. "I'm afraid I can't give that information."

Coda believed her. But if Tassyn was wallowing in fear or self-pity, she didn't show it, as she returned her gaze to the Freelancer. "How many scars do you have left Freelancer? How long until you break?"

"What?"

"How long until you fall, or give up, or lose yourself?"

Coda crossed her arms. "Is that the extent of your confidence in me?"

"The amount of confidence I have in mankind, tempered with the weight of reality." She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Well, we'll see. Maybe the Scars will break before us. Maybe they won't. I can't deny that while looking at you, I'm reminded that we carry scars on our bodies, while the Scars…don't."

Coda said nothing. Not as Tassyn got to her feet. Not as she deposited some coin in front of her, murmuring "for the beverages as well" as she did so. Not as she walked towards the bar's exit.

"Try to keep yourself patched up Freelancer," Tassyn said, glancing back from the door. "If you live long enough, perhaps your name will enter my memory."

"I'd like to hope so."

"I too, but again, reality." She sighed. "Farewell, Freelancer."

And thus Coda was left alone.

Left with her scars.


End file.
